SECOND SHOT [HAMILTON]

ARTHUR BROOKS, SIR

    "ARTHUR ALLISON BROOKS, GET YOUR SORRY ASS DOWN HERE!"

Arthur flinched back at the scream of the cursed woman that was his 'mother' this life.

Guess it's my punishment.

The young man slipped quickly down the hall to the kitchen where his scowling 'mother' was waiting.

"As you know," she cleared her throat, gesturing for him to take a seat. "Our dear friends are holding a party."

A silent groan bounced around Arthur's mind. Any of his 'mother's friends were bad news.

"Some bullshit about 'completing their family' or what ever," she scoffed. "but more importantly, we have been invited to celebrate with them."

Arthur shrugged, having learned to never say no to her.

"And because they don't know of your 'problem'," his mother sneered. "You will need to wear a dress."

Arthur startled out of his own thoughts. Though his mother respected his pronouns half-heartedly, she refused to admit it to everyone.

See, Arthur was born a girl. A product of his parent's affair. His father couldn't care less about him, and left with his sister when he was ten.

Arthur couldn't help but laugh at the irony of it all.

No, I don't want to wear a dress!

You can't go back to referring to me by my dead name just when it's convenient for you!

I can't stand this anymore, I'm going to Dad!

But, as was his Achilles' heel in every life before and after Aaron Burr, he said nothing and smiled.

"Good." She grinned. "Now, Amelia, let's get you ready."

Arthur dipped his head, finding his sneakers very fascinating at this moment.

I hope the others have it easier.